


That Damned Skinny Tie

by mightierthanthecanon



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, D/s, Harvey's overemotional as usual, M/M, Power Dynamics, Secretary references, Spanking, You've been warned, almost all my kinks in here haha, angry!Harvey, dom!Harvey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 12:34:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mightierthanthecanon/pseuds/mightierthanthecanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Before Harvey can take another step, Mike ducks behind him and starts not-at-all-casually backing towards the door. He almost makes it to the threshold when Harvey stops him.<br/>In a voice too pleasant, and too even by far, to be anything but fatal, Harvey asks, “Mike, where is your tie?”</p><p>It's been three months, and Harvey still hasn't forgiven Mike for betraying him to Jessica. But Mike's pretty sure he knows exactly how to earn Harvey's forgiveness. </p><p>(Yeah, it's exactly what you're thinking.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the end, it’s one of Mike’s ties that does it. For weeks, Mike brings Harvey key pieces of information, buys him bagels and coffee and even drops inane movie quotes in an effort to get a rise out of him—laughter or anger. Mike would accept anything at this point. It fails miserably each time. The files left on Harvey’s desk go unacknowledged, even when they help (which is most of the time), the bagels and coffee get thrown out by Donna and the lines, no matter how ridiculous, earn Mike looks so cold he has to fight the urge to wrap his arms around himself.

So, one month, two weeks and four days later, Mike gives up. He keeps working, and doesn’t stop giving Harvey’s cases priority over work he’s actually been assigned, but he stops working for Harvey’s approval. He hasn’t even seen his boss in weeks, which is just as well. Without Harvey pushing him, he feels lost, rudderless. He just stops trying. And that’s just fine with him. Laundry goes unwashed, lunch doesn’t get eaten and his newly started relationship with Rachel quickly fizzles into nothingness, less than what they had before. He starts caring so little that his work starts to suffer. Not Harvey’s—never Harvey’s—but other cases start to take Mike way longer than they should. But he doesn’t mind. Every minute he spends poring over some file is a minute that he can’t replay his fight with Harvey in his mind.

Two months and one week after the fight, Mike starts carrying his resignation letter around in his pocket. Rachel said he should quit, Harvey’s abandoned fired him—it’s really the logical next step. Unfortunately, he can’t bring himself to turn it in. That would require effort, choice, autonomy. Mike is perfectly content to let his shitty luck do all the work, like it always has. It doesn’t let him down.

Three full months after the fight, Mike walks out onto the 50th floor. Usually, he’d stay far away, but there’s a mandatory office party to publicly celebrate the new merger and the office is empty. Mike grits his teeth and reminds himself that he didn’t come here to reminisce. He just needs to put a file on Harvey’s desk and get to the event before people notice he’s not there with the other associates. Harvey doesn’t need the file—he’s winning his case, but Mike has gotten so used to the extra research that he does it anyway. Besides, he thinks, rounding the corner to Harvey’s office, Harvey always did enjoy the extra flourish. He grins at the image, unable to help himself. 

And boom. There go his emotions again. It’s this sudden overwhelming feeling of loss that clouds his thinking. When Mike sees the door to Harvey’s office, it’s like he’s being pulled, like Harvey’s office is gravity and Mike has no choice but to be drawn in. Without meaning to, he finds his steps leading to the window, to the same exact spot Harvey always stands in when he’s brooding over something. Mike closes his eyes to stem the rising tide of emotions and misses the shape stepping over the threshold. He doesn’t even notice the strangeness of the door already being open until it’s too late.

 “What are you doing in my office?” Mike’s body whips around of its own accord, eyes instantly snapping open because it’s  _Harvey._ It’s Harvey Specter, jaw clenched and eyes hard in a three-piece, dark grey, shadow stripe suit, looking as immaculate and put together as ever. Mike looks up at him, ready to explain himself and walk out when he meets Harvey’s eyes and feels  _something_. 

Mike opens his mouth, “I—” but words won’t come. And he still can’t take his eyes off Harvey’s face, so starved is Mike for even the sight of him.

Harvey puts his hands in his pockets and waits. “Mike.” Harvey prompts through grit teeth, the edge of a command in his voice.

The words start pouring out. “I brought you something on the Dunham case. That inheritance she supposedly used to fund her start-up? Doesn’t exist. I mean, unless you count $350 from a dead uncle. Turns out she made the start up money for her company selling heroin in college.” Harvey doesn’t react, but Mike can’t stop now and presses on, bending down to fumble for the file he apparently dropped in his shock at seeing Harvey. “Thought you might want proof. I know you’re winning the case because you’re Batman and all, but a drug dealer accusing someone of doing drugs to get them fired? That’s—”

“—not what I asked,” finishes Harvey, and Mike can’t even be happy that Harvey is finishing his sentences again because when he straightens up, Harvey is right in front of him, so close that Mike can smell his aftershave and now he’s stuttering and can’t answer a simple question and why did he actually come up here? Harvey really doesn’t need more information to win the case and Mike could have just waited for Donna to show up tomorrow and he’s soclose _thisclose_  to figuring it out when Harvey jerks his head towards the desk. Mike still doesn’t have an answer, and so he takes his time walking to the desk and putting the file down.

 “What, Harvey?” Mike shoots back, mustering just enough courage to look into Harvey’s eyes. It’s late now, and Harvey’s definitely tired. He’s working two cases now, Mike knows, and without his day-to-day help, it’s even harder. That’s the only reason why he realizes now what he never caught on to before. Harvey’s still angry, behind that icy façade, behind the coldness, behind the indifference. He’s furious. For the second time, Mike feels  _something_  travel down his spine.

“Sorry kid,” Harvey lets a fake smile cross his face and it’s worse than a slap. “It’s too late to play dumb, but I’ll ask again, in case you really have gotten slow. Why are you here?” He starts walking towards Mike to punctuate his question. “In my office.” Closer. “With a file I don’t need.” And closer. “When you should be at the merger celebration.”

Mike feels cornered. Mike is cornered, and starts thinking weird thoughts that start with predator and end with prey and that’s more than enough of a shitshow for one evening. Before Harvey can take another step, Mike ducks behind him and starts not-at-all-casually backing towards the door. “Sarah Dunham seemed fishy to me, and I figured you were at the party already, so I thought I’d do some quick research and drop off whatever I found before I went over, but you’re here and you have it now, so I’ll just be out of your way and on to the party.” He almost makes it to the threshold when Harvey stops him.

In a voice too pleasant, and too even by far, to be anything but fatal, Harvey asks, “Mike, where is your tie?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike apologizes. It doesn't go over well.

Mike curses himself silently for the pile of laundry lying untouched on his bedroom floor and hangs his head. “I don’t have one. I haven’t done laundry in a while, so I was going to buy a new one at lunch, but then I forgot to take lunch and I was really busy with the case and it totally slipped my mind,” he ramble/whispers, ready for Harvey to rip him a new one. Harvey doesn’t disappoint.

 Harvey shuts his eyes and rolls his head on his shoulders in a way Mike didn’t realize he missed until he sees it. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he asks in a low voice of barely restrained rage. “Not only are you going to show up late, but you don’t even have a tie!? Have you forgotten who got you here?” Mike looks up, steady. He hasn’t.

Harvey knows that. Of course he knows. “That’s right, Mike. Me. And even if you don’t work WITH me anymore, you still work FOR me. You still REPRESENT me. You still have to act like you give a shit about this job that, by the way, you still have because of ME,” he ticks off angrily, stalking towards a box in the wall of records Mike never noticed before. It’s a box of ties because of course Harvey has a box of brand new ties in his office. In case he ruins one by strangling someone with his. Mike looks at Harvey, stalking toward Mike with a tie in each hand. With the way he’s ranting, murder doesn’t really seem outside the realm of possibility.

“Of all the problems I’ve had to fix with you,” Harvey hisses, choosing a ridiculously expensive tie at random and looping it around Mike’s neck, “I didn’t think I had to tell you to WEAR A GODDAMNED TIE!” When Harvey starts yelling, Mike’s eyes drop down and he sees the tie. Dark blue, matching his navy suit perfectly, but with a subtle shadow stripe, to match his own. His eyes flick back up to Harvey and Harvey’s looking at him with an intensity he’s never seen before, and that he’d think was reserved for, well, people who aren’t Mike. He notices vaguely that Harvey’s hand is still around his neck. Harvey flexes his fingers, readjusting his hand so that his fingers touch skin when they settle around Mike’s throat.

Mike shifts, not uneasily, under Harvey’s fingers and swallows hard. For the first time in a long time, he literally has no idea what to do. When he glances back up at Harvey, his eyes are on his own hand and he almost looks surprised to see it around Mike’s neck. Mike’s words to Harvey three months ago come back to him, clear as day—"You haven’t said whatever you have to say to rip me to shreds enough so that you can start to forgive me. So go ahead. Whatever it takes, I can take it."—and Mike knows what he has to do.

“I’m sorry.” Harvey inhales sharply, his eyes snapping back to Mike’s. “I’m sorry I betrayed you. I’m sorry I went behind your back. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Jessica. I’m sorry I lost the case for you. I’m sorry I—” Mike lets out a choked sound as Harvey silences him and then just glares at him. Eventually Harvey makes a decision and raises an eyebrow at Mike.

After months of tacit acknowledgments and unspoken conversations, Mike knows when Harvey’s giving him an out. Harvey waits. Mike goes over all the things he could say, what he could take back, how he could backtrack…and says nothing. Harvey nods almost imperceptibly.

Almost immediately, Mike lets himself be dragged stumbling to the couch. He falls into the cushions, and then finally feels Harvey adjusting him over his lap, ass in the air. Despite the hand that stays around his neck, Mike doesn’t even pretend to struggle once he realizes what’s happening and shivers as he feels  _something_  curl at the base of his spine. He lets out a harsh breath as he recognizes it as arousal.

 “You’re not sorry yet,” Harvey grows darkly, “but you will be.”

It’s funny how your mind works. Mike has been working for Harvey for two whole years, and he’s never once spared Harvey’s furniture more than a passing glance. Harvey on the furniture? A king among men. The furniture itself? Window dressing. At least, that’s what he used to think. Now that Mike is face down, ass up in his boss’ lap with his face pressed into Harvey’s ridiculously expensive couch, he is revising his opinion. The fabric is smooth, but not flimsy, heavy— _expensive_ , Mike thinks—but still soft enough that he feels able enough to hold his position.

And all the fabric analysis in the world is not going to keep Mike’s mind off the fact that he is lying rigidly across Harvey Specter’s knees waiting for a spanking. But nothing comes. Mike doesn’t feel anything except for the subtle vibration of Harvey’s body, shaking with…anger? Frustration? Effort? Mike doesn’t know and, for the first time in weeks, wishes he could see Harvey’s face. When he remains silent for one minute, and then another, Mike thinks that maybe he’s wrong. Perhaps this wasn’t the way to atone for his sins and finally get Harvey to forgive him. Perhaps Harvey was only threatening to spank him and nothing would come of it but another horribly awkward moment between them. Mike relaxes the tiniest bit, releasing a fraction of the tension in his shoulders and immediately regrets it.

Because of course that’s what Harvey was waiting for.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike gets what he was expecting. And then some.

The blows start as soon as Mike stops expecting them. First Harvey’s open palm strikes the meaty part of his right cheek. Then on his left leg, near the knee. Between his thighs, to get Mike to spread his legs. And his hand keeps coming down. The first half dozen or so are erratic and spaced fairly far apart. A couple aren’t so hard, but one stings so much that Mike gasps out loud. Harvey doesn’t stop when he hears it. In fact, it’s possible that he hits Mike even harder, and Mike’s gasps turn into grunts.

 Then nothing. The blows cease, and Mike feels Harvey’s body finally still as everything seems to stop. Mike feels nothing but sensation now—the sting of Harvey’s blows, fading quickly in the climate controlled room, the fabric of Harvey’s couch against his face, the scent of Harvey’s cologne mixed with something Mike can’t quite place, something distinctly  _Harvey_ , and finally, above everything, the warm weight of Harvey’s hand, which had yet to move from it’s place around Mike’s neck, at once comforting and terrifying, especially when paired with Harvey’s utter silence.

The silence draws out, filling the room like smoke until Mike can barely breathe comfortably, let alone think straight. He wants to move, to stretch, to do  _something_ , but he has a feeling that Harvey won’t appreciate any movement on his part right now, so he stays still, his body tensing even more to ruin any chance he might have had to run.

Harvey must appreciate this on some small level, because he speaks. “Your bullshit apologies mean nothing to me, Mike.”

 Mike flinches. “But they’re not—” And he doesn’t need to see Harvey to know the look on his face. He shuts up. He waits. When Harvey continues, it’s like he was never interrupted.

“Which means that they don’t mean anything to you. You can say sorry all you want. I am going to beat you until you mean it.”

And Mike’s trying really hard to be appropriately scared and nervous and appalled and offended, but all he can think is he’s so happy that Harvey is talking to him. It seems impossible now, given their closeness up until three months ago, but this is more contact than he’s ever had with Harvey. More contact than they’ve ever had put together. All the fist bumps and hands on the shoulder and occasional high fives in the world aren’t better than this—Mike’s two legs are resting around Harvey’s one, Harvey’s hand is still around his neck and…and his dick is right against Harvey’s thighs. The idea doesn’t faze him as much as it should.

Harvey’s voice carries in the large room, feeling like a shout even thought Mike knows he’s just whispering. “Do not move. Do not speak. Do not scream,” Harvey instructs, his voice sharp, yet strained somehow, as if waiting for Mike to run out of the room. Orders. Mike can handle orders, even if Harvey can’t. Mike waits a beat, breathing in the scent of  _Harvey_  all over his couch. Then Harvey starts.

The first blow to Mike’s ass is harder than he was expecting, and the blows that keep falling are fast, on his ass, inner thighs, the sides of his hips, barely giving Mike a chance to wonder if Harvey’s ever done this before. He has. Of course he has, because Harvey pauses enough for Mike to catch his breath before he starts again, missing the spots where he’s already hit Mike and hitting everywhere else, so that it seems that Mike’s entire body, from the tops of his hips to backs of his knees, is on fire.

The room seems to have gotten five times hotter in the time that has passed, and, even though Mike definitely needs to take off something, he doesn’t even twitch. He’s not moving, and he’s not speaking, although he desperately wants to do both. He feels like he’s shifting inside of his skin, and that’s not even the most uncomfortable thing. It’s his cock, he realizes with shock.

“How many?” Harvey asks, cool and confident now.

Mike answers without thinking, “Thirty, sir.” He can almost hear Harvey smile in the dark—of course he was counting—and feels warmth, first through his chest, then lower.

Harvey pauses to squeeze the back of Mike’s neck—affectionately, Mike hopes—then asks, “Enough?”

Again, Mike answers immediately, “No, sir.”

 If possible, Harvey’s hand comes down harder this time, hitting places he knows are already red with his handprints and oh god, Harvey’s  _marked_ him and doesn’t that sound wonderful. But the blows keep coming and somewhere Mike realizes that this _hurts._ Over and over the blows fall, until Mike is sobbing, ”I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry” into Harvey’s couch. All of a sudden, Harvey stops.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgiveness.

“How many?” Harvey asks again. 

Mike takes a second to think, then chokes out, “Twenty, sir.” That’s nothing. He could take twenty more, fifty more if Harvey would forgive him. Anything to have Harvey back in his life again, barging into his apartment and high-fiving him in the office. He could do more. He can take more.

”Mike.” Harvey interrupts quietly, “No. That’s enough. Are you all right?” It isn’t so much the sound of Harvey’s voice but the touch of Harvey’s hand on the back of Mike’s neck that gets him out of his head enough to realize he’d been speaking out loud. Mike relaxes under the gentleness of Harvey’s touch, stretching to feel more of it against his skin. For a few minutes, Mike just stays put, relaxing into Harvey’s hand until he can get himself together.

"Mike," Harvey repeats, getting on his knees to pull Mike gently into a seated position, "Are you all right?" Ignoring the burn of the couch, Mike looks directly into Harvey’s eyes. "Yes, I am," he answers, letting out a deep breath for the first time in what feels like years. Harvey holds his gaze for a second, then nods, retreating to the window.

"Do you really want to be my associate?" Harvey asks, in a voice as raw and broken as Mike has felt these past three months. "Yes, I do," Mike answers confidently, walking only a little unsteadily to the window to stand beside Harvey. Harvey sighs unhappily, "Mike…" Suddenly, it hits Mike that his plan to win Harvey’s forgiveness essentially consisted of goading his boss into committing sexual harassment. After betraying Harvey to Jessica Pearson. He shakes his head at himself and puts one hand to his heart, addressing the city below him.

"I, Mike Ross, being of sound mind and…slightly sore body, do hereby declare that I want to be Harvey Specter’s associate, in spite of his ridiculously expensive clothes and draconian punishment techniques," he declares to the window. Even through the guilt and doubt that Mike can see plain as day on his face, Harvey can’t help but laugh. "Well, after that, how can I say no?" Harvey asks, still grinning. Mike turns toward him, unable to stop the smile on his face. 

Maybe one day they’ll think carefully about what he just said, or what just happened on the couch. But today is not that day. 

"You can’t," Mike quips, picking up Harvey’s tie from where it fell off Mike’s neck. "Think we’re too late for the party?" 

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “Party?,” he asks, shrugging elegantly into a grey jacket and picking up his briefcase. “I thought you had some evidence to show me.” Mike opens his mouth, but Harvey stops him before he starts. “Food. Then work,” Harvey clarifies, striding into the elevator, “What kind of boss would I be if I let you pass out on the job?” Mike scoffs, “Um, Harvey Specter?” Harvey ignores Mike completely and gets into the car waiting for him. “Ray? Five Guys. We’ll need to pick up some cold cream on the way. Mike?” Mike stops dead in his tracks in front of the car. “Mike?” prods Harvey. Mike just stares. Johnny Bravo hair, three piece suit, billion dollar shoes…yes, that’s Harvey Specter. No, this isn’t an alternate universe. Is it?

"Did you just say Five Guys?" asks Mike incredulously. "Of course I did, Mike," replies Harvey, like it was obvious—which, Mike had to admit, it totally was— "their burgers are the best in the country. Besides, look at you," Harvey adds, grinning, as Mike finally slides next to him, "You aren’t even wearing a tie."


End file.
